Friday, March 19, 2010

John L. Stanizzi - Two Poems


    for my grandson, Michael

In the heaviness
of a July evening,
I watch a parade
of my grandchildren
following the quirky
lilt of a firefly.
Michael leads,
arms outstretched,
a plastic cup in one hand,
hope in the other.
It’s slow work
and silent,
pursuing that little
blossom of light
all over the yard.

Right in front of him,
between cup and palm,
it vanishes into darkness
and catches fire again
just out of reach over his head,
and I feel utterly
his urge to capture
that tiny bolt of light,
the thrill of not knowing
when it will vanish,
where it will reappear,
and will he ever
hold it for a moment up close,
               to marvel at the tiny creature
               that finds its way
               just as Michael does,
               guided by the light
         of its own little body.


     after Billy Collins
        for Carole Shores

This morning’s fog fills the sky,
renders me short-sighted and unsure,
and brings to mind
thoughts of transition.

It hangs on to the trees,
this grey blur,
and creates the illusion
of not wanting to let go,
though eventually the fog will melt,
the sun will shine.

And so tomorrow,
when the fog flings its rags
over the morning trees,
I will remember that dawn’s carnival
will surface on the horizon,
the fog will clean up its mess,
and when I rest
at the end of the day,
I will praise the transitory breezes
that moved the fog along on its way,
and pushed our lives
gently together.

John L. Stanizzi teaches English at Bacon Academy and Manchester Community College in Connecticut. His work has recently been published in The New York Quarterly, Tar River Poetry, Rattle,and The Wild Goose Review. He is the author of two books – Ecstasy Among Ghosts (now in its 3rd printing) and Sleepwalking, both from Antrim House.

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